“Right,” she said, over the catch in her throat. “Well. Efterar said it was fully reversible, so as long as I visit him again before we leave, I should still be fine to have children of my own. Once I’m… home.”
Rathgarr still wasn’t looking at her, but he nodded, and then swiped for his belt and sword, strapping them on with fumbling hands. “Ach, then,” he said thickly. “I must — shave. Meet me in the latrine, once you have dressed?”
Geva gave a nod he couldn’t see, and clutched tighter at the fur as she watched him stride out the door. One month — three weeks — and then the sea.
She sat there for longer than she meant to, staring at the wall, her thoughts curiously blank. And it was only once she realized she was absently stroking her new braids — her new beads — that she winced, shoved out of bed, and dressed as quickly as she could. Three weeks.
She indeed found Rathgarr in the latrine, glowering into the looking-glass, and swiping his shaving-blade down his face with unsteady-looking strokes. And then hissing aloud as the blade caught on his lip, and a spot of red welled in its wake, only to disappear under an impatient brush of his black tongue.
“Here,” he said curtly, thrusting out something toward her. “If you would.”
Geva blinked at him, and then down at the item in his hand. It was — oh. A pair of shiny, new-looking shears. For his hair.Mayhap you shall even trim my hair, he’d said, teased, what felt like an age ago.If you swear not to saw it all off in a fit of pique.
And perhaps Geva should have been offended by his presumption, by the command. But instead, something was swooping in her stomach, and she silently took the shears, and glanced around for his comb. Which yes, he’d set just there, on the edge of the washbasin — so she plucked it up, eased around behind him, and drew his hair back over his shoulders.
She couldn’t seem to speak as she carefully combed it out, and neither did he, his focus still intent on his work in the looking-glass. But even so, she was certain she could see his shoulders slowly relaxing, his breaths exhaling deeper with every smooth slide of the comb.
His hair was indeed just a little ragged along the bottom, and Geva’s stomach swooped again as she made a careful first cut, as the thick black wisps fell to the floor at her feet. And when Rathgarr didn’t betray even the slightest flinch, she cut again, and again, and again, not missing how his own hand had steadied on his blade, moving with far more speed and ease than before.
Again, almost as if he liked this. Trusted her to do this, just the way he’d done it for her last night. Helpmates.
So she kept going, making it as perfectly straight as she could, and then brushing off his clothes, and disposing of the clippings down the latrine. And then, once he’d finished shaving, she took the liberty of turning him around, smoothing out his tunic, fixing the laces at his neck.
“Very handsome,” she told him, with a smile. “Are you ready?”
But even that was enough to bring back the tension in his shoulders, his mouth twisting, his eyes dark and surprisingly bleak on hers. “No,” he said, after a heavy sigh. “What if Kesst again rages at me? Or mocks me? Or spurns me before all our kin?”
But Geva shook her head, smoothed his tunic down against his chest. “You can’t control what Kesst does, or how he feels,” she replied firmly. “But youcancontrol yourself. You can finally be honest with him. You can tell him the truth, after all this time, and you can decide to be patient with however he responds to that. You can do your part to try to rebuild your relationship, one step at a time. All right?”
Rathgarr was still grimacing, but his throat convulsed, and he jerked a quick, erratic nod. His eyes on hers warm, almost… grateful.
“And mayhap you shall… help?” he said, very quiet. “If I need this?”
Geva’s hands hesitated against him, her heart skipping a beat, but she nodded, too. “Of course I will,” she said, with as much certainty as she could muster. “Helpmates, remember? Even if youarestill the single most enraging creature I’ve ever met in my life.”
At that, Rathgarr’s mouth curved up, into a hint of a smile — and without warning, he stepped forward, and bent his head low over hers. And then — Geva stilled, caught, breathless — he very gently touched his mouth to her braided hair. As if… he was kissing it. As if he liked it. Liked this. Liked… her.
It was something to cling to, perhaps, as he silently took her hand, and led her out the door. Taking her up the corridor, past a variety of doors, until he paused outside a new room, one Geva hadn’t yet seen. Surely, the Ash-Kai common-room, where Kesst had wanted to meet. Where Rathgarr would tell his clan everything.
It turned out to be a large, open room, with a crackling fire at one end, and a variety of tables, benches, and chairs scattered about. While beneath Geva’s bare feet, the floor was softly carpeted in furs and animal skins, and even more furs and skins lined the stone walls around them. Creating an overall effect of warm, snug coziness, apart from — Geva’s body had stilled along with Rathgarr’s, just inside the door — the fact that there were well over a dozen people already inside the room, all staring straight toward them.
There was Jule, with Grimarr beside her, and Tengil in her arms, while on Grimarr’s other side were Drafli and Baldr, with Alma curled into Baldr’s lap. And there was the midwife Gwyn with her mate Joarr — Gwyn giggling as Joarr nibbled at her ear — and Stella, nursing her tiny orcling, while she herself was cradled by a huge, hairy orc Geva hadn’t yet met. And there was Rosa, with yet another lean, unfamiliar orc — surely her mate John — who was also holding a tiny, squirming orcling, and next Ella and Natt and Rakfi, and Simon and Maria, and Sigarr and Abjorn. And — Geva stiffened all over — even Killik, andUlfarr, frowning with deep disapproval toward them.
But most importantly of all, there, in the very middle of the room, stood Kesst. Once again tucked close into Efterar’s side, and again impeccably dressed in his jewels, boots, and tight trousers. Though his eyes looked even more tired than the day before, and they’d already snapped to Rathgarr’s face, holding there with a strange, shifting intensity.
Beside Geva, Rathgarr’s body was still frozen in place, his previous ease utterly vanished, his eyes locked on Kesst’s face. His mouth opening, closing, opening, nothing coming out, and oh gods, this wasn’t going to happen again, please…
“Skeeto! Poo!” said a small, clear voice, making both Geva and Rathgarr jump — but oh, it was just Tengil, scrambling down from Jule’s arms, and toddling over toward them with wide, careful steps. “Hi. Poo!”
Geva laughed, the sound rather shrill, and before them, Kesst jerked away from Efterar, and strode forward to sweep up Tengil into his arms. “Rude, Bitty-Grim!” he said, gently tapping his claw against Tengil’s little chest. “You cannot greet other people by saying ‘poo’. It just isn’tdone.”
But thankfully the room’s curdling tension had seemed to collapse all at once, and Geva was laughing again, and grinning at Tengil’s wide, perplexed eyes. “It’s all right,” she told Kesst. “It’s my own fault. I brought out the poo jokes yesterday, and now they’ll never be forgotten,ever. Right, little fella?”
Tengil was looking very stern, suddenly, and giving a small nod of his little head. Enough that Geva laughed again, and when Tengil reached out toward her with his chubby arms, she willingly took him from Kesst, propping him onto her hip. “But still, we should come up with something new,” she informed him. “How about moo. Or boo?”
“Boo!” Tengil said, excitedly hiding his eyes with his hands. And soon Geva found herself playing peek-a-boo with an eager, giggling orcling, while Kesst watched, with a reluctant, amused smile on his tired-looking face — and beside Geva, perhaps Rathgarr looked just the same. His body slightly relaxing again, his soft eyes flicking between Geva and Tengil, and then back to Kesst. And then just holding there, glimmering with something between longing, and pleading, and grief.
And Kesst had surely felt it, his eyes snapping up, and instantly shifting back to cold, brittle distance. “Well, get on with it, then, Rath,” he said flatly. “You supposedly wanted to talk, so talk.”
